Mercy for the Wicked
by desertredwolf
Summary: She may be considered "dark" by her peers, but Morgana is just as lost as the next person—in some ways, maybe even more so. [QLFC; Season 6, Round 2. Captain for Puddlemere United.] [pre- Morgana/Gwen, if you squint]


**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All rights go to respective owners.**

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 **Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition / Season Six, Round Two**

 **Team:** Puddlemere United

 **Position:** Captain

 **Prompt:** Write about a 'dark' character who needs comfort/ affection.

 _Chosen character: Morgana_

 **Word Count (not including title and author's notes):** 2016 (Google Docs)

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 **Betaed by:** **gr8rockstarrox (Ad) and obscurialdefenseclub (Ana)** **. Thank you! Also, a big thank you to** **roseusvortex (Kat) for the prompts you gave me for inspiration! Your prompt of "mirror" and a theme of "reflecting" helped get me through this story.**

 **A/N —** **Gwenhwyfar is the original Welsh variation of the name "Guinevere."**

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 **Mercy for the Wicked**

 _The last remnants of the setting sun had finally slipped beneath the horizon, plunging the world into eerie twilight. All over the castle, lanterns were slowly being lit by unseen house-elves, ready to help the lonely stragglers find their way. As it was almost curfew, however, most of the inhabitants of Hogwarts had already gathered in their respective sleeping quarters._

 _Yes, most people were ready to turn in for the night._

 _There was one person, though, who had lost track of time; a lonely and desperate student of Rowena Ravenclaw, who was huddled in the back corner of the library..._

.oOo.

 _No, no, no, no, no!_

Morgana felt like screaming in frustration, or perhaps even crying, but ultimately did not do either. She was sixteen years old; she was beyond such temper tantrums. Instead, she paused for a moment and tried to collect herself.

 _Deep breath, Morgana,_ she thought, closing her eyes. Envisioning a still mountain lake that reflected a starry night sky like a mirror, she repeated her mantra. _Deep breath, Morgana. Breathe in— OUCH!_

She grunted in pain and bit down on her fist, with her other hand clutching her ribs. Pain continued to shoot through her side, and her entire body—also battered and bruised—sharply ached in response. She forced herself to take shallow breaths in and out. Minutes passed before the pain finally subsided. Opening her eyes, Morgana noticed that she was still alone in the library. Thankfully, no one had seen her moment of weakness.

She knew that cracked ribs were no minor thing, and that they should be fixed before more damage could occur. It was not as if she could go to the Hospital Wing, though. She knew the rumors that were spreading around the school; even the professors were talking.

Of course, the gossip was not _all_ true. She was not a Parselmouth, so the rumors about a Basilisk in the school that she alone could control was obviously false. Granted, it _was_ suspicious because she had killed the school's roosters and chickens, but that had been for a ritual that she had been working on in her spare time.

It was poor timing, and entirely a coincidence.

Resettling in her chair, she turned her full ire back on the problem before her. The pain in her body, a constant reminder of her failings, always in the back of her mind.

' _ **You deserve this suffering,'**_ a nasty voice whispered in the back of her mind. _**'You do not deserve anything better. Not after all that you have done… And plan to do yet.'**_

Morgana could not help but agree. That was why she had to find an answer to her problem, which would only be delayed if she got thrown out of the Hogwarts library. She was only one warning away from that happening, and it was not like the librarian liked her that much in the first place.

No, it was best to stay quiet and not draw attention to herself. At least, no more than she already had. Shaking her head, she began picking up the cause of her vexation.

"Unbelievable," she muttered.

A simple deck of cards—or at least, that is what it appeared to be at first glance. Morgana felt like they had the potential to be so much more, though. This was the product after a year of research into creating a new form of divination, and the blasted cards _were not cooperating_!

She carefully held the first card up to the flickering light from the nearby lamp. _The High Priestess_ : quite the obvious one for her to get. In this case, however, it seemed to be mocking her because it made _no sense_. How this card, grouped with the other three on the desk, answered her question of how to clarify her Sight was beyond her.

Sighing, she picked up the remaining cards and shuffled them back into the decks. Who knew? Maybe the seventeenth time would yield a different result—

"Hello, Morgana."

She froze mid-shuffle, as butterflies erupted in her stomach. Morgana _knew_ that voice. She had dreams—and then _dreams_ —about that voice. However, this was the last person she wanted to see at the moment. Trying to act nonchalant, she continued shuffling the separate decks and worked on controlling her breathing.

"Gwenhwyfar." She greeted the Head Girl cautiously. The older girl was one of Helga's lot, so one never knew what to quite expect from them. It was best to always play it safe. "What are you doing here?"

The other girl sat down across the table from her. Morgana could feel her piercing blue eyes searching her features, looking for answers.

"Looking for you," Gwenhwyfar replied stiffly. "What are you doing here?"

Morgana finished shuffling one of the decks, instead of responding. She took her time drawing the first card; she groaned. It was the _High Priestess_ — _again_.

"An exercise in insanity, it would seem," she said wryly. "How can I help you?"

There was silence, and Morgana took that moment to draw the next card. _Ten of Cups_ , upright like the _High Priestess_. It was also the same one that she had drawn the last sixteen times for that position. At this point, she thought it was getting ridiculous.

 _Maybe the cards are trying to tell me something_ , she thought sarcastically. _Could they not tell me what I want to know, though?_

As the quiet continued, she thought maybe her companion had left. Looking up, though, she was taken aback by the expression on Gwenhwyfar's face.

The older girl looked torn between extreme distrust and worry. Her eyes were narrowed, and Morgana felt as if she was under some examination—or perhaps an interrogation.

"Are you under glamours, right now?"

Morgana sighed. She wearily met Gwenhwyfar's eyes— _they are such a pretty blue_ —and shrugged.

"They must not be that good, if you can see through them," she replied. "Although, it is hard to hold them with all the pain."

"Pain?" Gwenhwyfar exclaimed, her eyes widening in concern. "Remove the glamours!"

"No."

Pride kept her from giving into the demand. She chose to ignore the Head Girl, who was rapidly growing more and more irritated at her blase attitude, and drew the next card: the _Knight of Wands_ for the seventeenth time. Unlike the first two, this card was reversed.

"Morgana," Gwenhwyfar implored, "I can help you."

This time though, her request was backed up with her wand. Morgana stared down the wand point, squashing her instinct to reach for her own. Instead, she forced herself to remain still as she responded.

"Please remove them."

Gwenhwyfar waved her wand in an intricate pattern, murmuring the appropriate enchantment under her breath. Morgana felt the glamours wash away like cold water, and the other girl gasped in shock.

She could only imagine how she looked.

"What happened?" Gwenhwyfar asked quietly.

"Some of Slytherin's students and I had a… disagreement," she replied, for the first time of the night feeling uncertain. She should tell her what really happened? A thought suddenly struck her.

"Gwenhwyfar, why did you come to find me in the library? What could not wait until morning at breakfast to come and find me?"

Gwenhwyfar looked down, a bit chagrined.

"I was on patrol," she said, "when I ran into the students that you had a disagreement with. I must say, you gave as good as you got—if not better. I will deny that, though, if you ever tell anyone I said that."

Morgana grinned, her face twinging in pain. "Of course," she replied. "After all, it would be most improper if the Head Girl was to be heard possibly encouraging fighting."

"I am glad we understand each other," Gwenhwyfar said. She smiled, and Morgana felt her heart fill with warmth. "Moving on, they said you were heading to the library. I sent them off to the Hospital Wing—with an appropriate deduction of points, of course."

"That was hours ago, though," Morgana prodded. "Why are you here _now_?"

"Because it took me a while to get this," Gwenhwyfar said. Reaching into her bag, the Head Girl pulled out a clay jar the size of her fist. Carefully avoiding the cards Morgana had laid out, she slid the container across the table.

Opening it gingerly, Morgana sniffed the contents and immediately sneezed. Gwenhwyfar giggled.

"It packs quite the punch, does it not?" she said with mirth. "I had the same reaction, though not everyone does. It has a lot of magic in it. It will not help fix broken bones, but it will take down any swelling, no matter how bad it is."

Morgana felt the sting of tears in her eyes. This was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for her at Hogwarts.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"My pleasure," Gwenhwyfar replied. "Morgana… Why are you in the library?"

"I find that bullies tend to stay away from knowledge," she said dryly. Gwenhwyfar laughed again, and Morgana—through her hazy, pain-filled state—thought it was the prettiest sound in the world. "I also need books for my research."

"The cards?" she prompted. Morgana nodded.

Silently, she drew the last card and was not surprised to see the _Eight of Swords_ , also reversed.

"I have the most terrible visions," Morgana explained quietly, picking up the cards and shuffling them again. "Skulls and snakes … protection spells failing … Hogwarts burning … and children dying." Gwenhwyfar looked horrified, and Morgana did not blame her.

"The problem with being a— being a Seer," she continued, choking on her words slightly, "is that I do not know when they will happen, or why, or how. I only know that at some point, they _will_ occur. Just like how I knew at some point, those boys would torture a first year because of her blood status."

"I am going to report them," Gwenhwyfar growled, but Morgana was already shaking her head.

"Based on what evidence?" she asked rhetorically. "Surely not on the crazy Seer, who occasionally uses Darker spells on people for seemingly no reason."

"Do you regret using those curses?"

Morgana looked up at the Head Girl, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was exhausted and lonely, and just about could not handle any more.

"Not if they make the bullies stop."

Gwenhwyfar looked down and sighed. Morgana took the time to rapidly redraw the cards. _High Priestess_ , upright; _Ten of Cups_ , upright; _Knight of Wands_ , reversed; and _Eight of Swords,_ reversed. Sighing, she picked up the cards and put them away. She was done with them for the night.

"Are the cards meant to help you with your Sight?" Gwenhwyfar questioned. "Is it Dark?"

"Magic is neither Light nor Dark," Morgana chided. "It is our actions that define what is evil. They are supposed to help, but who honestly knows. The cards are being quite stubborn, and confusing me more than I already was. On the other hand, they are much less distressing for the librarian. He was not too fond of my attempts at using pyromancy or axinomancy in the library."

Apparently, that was a good enough answer for Gwenhwyfar because she abruptly stood up.

"Thirty points from House Ravenclaw for fighting in the halls and using excessively damaging curses," the Head Girl said in a professional tone. Before Morgana could be too disappointed, she continued. "And forty-five points for defending another student and adding to the research of an oft-forgotten area of magic."

"You believe me?" Morgana asked, stunned.

Gwenhwyfar rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. The younger student found unimaginable comfort in the simple gesture.

"I do not know what I believe about the rumors around the school," she replied. "However, I do believe you right now, as you did not seem deceitful. Have a good night, Morgana."

She turned to leave, but barely took two steps before turning around.

"And if you ever need a friend, you know where to find me."

And with that, Gwenhwyfar left, leaving Morgana feeling more at ease and with a sense of hope than she had in a very, very long time.

 _Maybe it will all be alright._

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 **A/N 2 — I have never used tarot cards, but I do know that they can be interpreted in my different ways. Although, there are some standard meaning behind each card, and whether they are upright or reversed. Some meanings I found for the cards used in this story:**

 _ **The High Priestess,**_ **upright: intuition, subconscious mind, higher powers, mystery. (The first card drawn is apparently meant to describe the subject of the reading.)**

 _ **Ten of Cups,**_ **upright: harmony, marriage, happiness, alignment. (The second card is supposed to describe what is happening in the physical world.)**

 _ **Knight of Wands**_ **, reversed: scattered energy, delays, frustration. (The third card is supposed to describe what is happening in the mental realm.)**

 _ **Eight of Swords,**_ **reversed: a way out, freedom, self-acceptance. (The last card is what is supposed to describe what is happening on the spiritual plain for the subject.)**

 **Then again, these can be interpreted in many different ways—part of why Morgana finds it so frustrating.**

 **Also, tarot cards weren't used for mysticism until the mid-18th century, so that's why I had her experimenting with creating the first tarot cards in the early 11th century. (Shh, I'm playing with time and history a bit.)**

 **Also, also:** **axinomancy is an obscure form of divination using axes and hatchets, often interpreting the future by the way they land after being thrown.**


End file.
